


The Silver Lining

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-23
Updated: 2006-12-23
Packaged: 2019-01-19 02:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12401130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: When tragedy shadows James Potter, and his facade crumbles to reveal a man Lily finds herself drawn to, can a life long impression be changed? And with this change of heart, will she have the strength to carry him out of the darkness that plagues her love?





	The Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

The cool autumn wind tousled James’ already ruffled hair, tracing his jaw line lightly as his thoughts twisted down the dimly lit corridors in his mind… the darkest parts of his self, of his hatred. His father’s footsteps haunted him. Late at night, when he lurked in the meeting place between sleep and wakefulness... he would imagine them taping just outside his bedroom door... how bittersweet that sound had become the first night after his dad’s death. The imagined sound would always bring back unwanted memories... the way, around the holidays, he’d always slip James just a tiny bit of Firewhiskey. Never enough to get him to act foolish, but it had been the way he would always press his old, wrinkled finger to his lips and pour it sloppily into James’ goblet, the roguish wink and broad grin when Mrs. Potter would enter the room again. 

The way his dad had always smelled slightly of tobacco and aftershave… how when he was a boy James’ tiny hands barely reached the beginning of his dad’s fingers. Instinctively he flexed his hands, tracing his left absently with his right as he realized suddenly that his hands would fill out his father’s now. 

Somewhere deep within him he was drowning in the anguish. The thick, heavy feeling of depression overwhelmed him in a fog. He stood from the windowsill and the view of the grounds that had held his gaze for hours now and wearily strolled back to the common room. It was a long walk from the Astronomy tower and the last thing he wanted to bear was the hour and a half walk in utter silence that rounds with Evans would bring... but he couldn’t let down Lily... again.  

It was funny... all his dad had ever wanted was to see James succeed and now that he had… all Mr. Potter would be seeing for an eternity was the inside of the steel coffin he had been lowered into three months ago. 

Everyone knew... Harold Potter’s empty face had been posted in every magical magazine for months. The death of a major Auror was big news in such war times... but the lack of understanding drove James mad. For weeks he couldn’t walk aimlessly in any Wizarding area without seeing a discarded paper with his Father’s lifeless eyes staring up at him. It frustrated him almost as must as the pitying looks he received every single day from every single student at his own ridiculous school. He tried to stretch his mind back into a time when a petty life filled with shagging girls and pulling pranks on dumb kids had fulfilled him. But even imagining that time in his life was impossible now. 

Frustrated, he slammed the flat of his hand against the stone wall, drawing closer to the lithe figure waiting for him outside of Gryffindor’s common room’s portrait hole. 

"James," Lily’s soft voice sounded relieved. 

"Didn’t think I’d leave you wandering these hallways alone, did you?" he questioned, eyebrows raised as they began to walk at a slow pace. 

Instinctively, it seemed, her hand reached to rub her forearm slightly, so self-consciously as her deep red hair fell lightly from her shoulder. 

"Yeah, actually, a bit," she replied honestly, and he barked out a laugh. 

"Well... I promise, I’m not as much of an ass as I used to be," he assured with a slight nod of his head, causing a tumble of wavy black locks to overflow his wire thin glasses. 

"I’ve noticed. It’s nice," she admitted, shoving her tiny hands nervously into her pockets. A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she stole glances at James’ lean, muscular figure. 

"I’m glad." 

Conversation broke off awkwardly after that... the emptiness of the hallways clashing horrifically with the vivid tension that filled the space between them. 

Frantically, Lily scanned her thoughts for something to say... anything at all. And she berated herself for feeling the need to speak to someone she had hated for a large percentage of her life.

"How was your summer?" James asked quietly after a long period of time of silence.

"Good," she answered quickly, barely realizing she was being spoken to, the response automatic after three weeks in school. "Actually..." she trailed slowly. "It was pretty terrible." 

"Mine too." He turned his head slightly to grin at her lovely, delicate features. "What screwed up yours?"

"This guy... I’ve been living with actually, for a real long time now; we broke up this last Christmas break. So I had to stay with my sister over the summer... and well... she hates me." Her words rushed out; she was desperate to talk about anything real with any human being alive. The fact that the person who just happened to be around was a boy she had grown accustomed to hating... and so far this year, staring at, had nothing to do with it, she attempted to convince herself weakly.

"That does suck. My dad died," he responded bluntly, staring at the floor, trying to figure out why saying the words aloud made it so much harder than screaming them inside his own skull. 

"I know," she whispered as they rounded the darkened corner. 

"So why does your sister hate you?" he asked after another moment of prolonged silence. 

She paused for a second, trying to find the words to describe their strained relationship. Finally she spoke. 

"My Dad left us, me, my mum, and Tunia too, when I got my letter for Hogwarts. He said it wasn’t right... that I wasn’t right. None of us were. She’s always blamed me... ever since then. When Lord Voldemort killed my mum, things went from bad to worse. Everyone in my family... we’re all competitive by nature, and even worse, selfish and jealous at heart. It was just too much for her to handle, still is," Lily sighed sadly, trailing her lean, pale finger against the wall as they walked, lost in another world of her own thoughts. 

"Your mum’s dead?" he questioned, befuddled. 

"Yeah... it happened a long time ago though. No worries." 

"When-" His voice became thick with emotion for a moment and he paused, reigning his feelings back in. "When did it happen?" 

"Third year," she answered sadly. 

"Third year... the year me and Sirius used to tease you for crying so much in class," he realized bitterly. 

"Yes... right after the start of term."

"We had thought-"

"That I was crying because Amos had broken up with me?" 

"Well... yeah," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly with his hand. 

"Actually I broke things off with him." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah." 

The pair fell into another horrifically drawn out silence, both wrapped up in their own minds, and too preoccupied to be doing their jobs on an even mediocre level. 

"I suppose it’s too late to apologize," he offered weakly. 

"It’s never too late for anything, James." She smiled warmly at him, rubbing his shoulder absentmindedly.   


Startled, he turned his head sharply to look at her offending hand, causing her porcelain cheeks to flame with embarrassment. 

"Sorry... dunno what I was thinking," she mumbled, taking a large step to the side and putting as much space as possible between them. 

And James was in too much shock to utter the words that were chasing around in his head... words to bring her back closer, words to tell her how ashamed he was of who’d he’d been, of who he was right at that moment... and how terrified he was that he wouldn’t become the man he desperately wanted to. 

But he didn’t speak at all. All he did was walk silently on, barely mumbling a goodnight as they stood at the bottom of staircases in Gryffindor common room. 

Hours later, somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, Lily Evans was lying, exasperated, in her bed.  

"Why, in Merlin’s name, did I touch him? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?!" she accused herself. 

"Because he’s James bloody Potter, and he’s bloody amazing in bed. Now for the love of God, shut the hell up!" Christine, Lily’s more outspoken roommate, practically screamed. 

"Night Chris," Lily laughed. 

"Night Lily Flower. Get some sleep." 

"Will do," she replied before pulling her blanket over the top of her head. 

"I still can’t believe I did that! I am such an idiot!" she whispered as Chris groaned angrily from the next bed. 

  



End file.
